


Mad as a March Heir

by SisterSauce



Series: Mad as a March Heir + Extras [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: :'((((((, :), AND NO THEY ARE NOT DATING DON'T SHIP TOBI AND TORD PLSSSS, Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Copyright Infringement, Domestic fighting, Dramatic Irony, Fluff, Guns, Hold onto that one for later, Internal Conflict, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Abortion, Mentions of Mutiny, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Violence, Mpreg, Platonic Relationships, Tape Recorders - Freeform, Tord records messages for his baby, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Vomiting, YOU'RE GOING TO REMIND ME OF WHEN I WAS A TORD FANGIRL AND I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER THAT, angelo is angery, bing you theif, blackmailing, but the other characters don't, don't sue me i really don't care at this point, edd pay ur goddamn child support, finally jfc, gonna get shot, hi my name is sauce and i'm an edgy fuck, i don't use his last name so don't crucify my eddsworld fandom, i mean the eddsworld fandom is going to crucify me anyways so :/, i'll let you figure out who, if one person calls my baby nico di angelo i'm going to cry, it's still legal tho bc tord doesn't have a patent, just an sex joke and two characters getting freaky before they appear, my babies love each other, oh yeah i forgot i used "pau" until like chapter 5, only verbal tho, otis has a potty mouth, pls don't hate me QwQ, red leader eddsworld pregnant, see mrs [REDACTED] i paid attention in your english class, she's an angel and we're glad she's here, sorry forgot that tord mentions drinking in the first chapter, specifically paul and tord, that's why you don't eavesdrop on your pregnant leader, the readers know who the baby daddy is, tobi is precious, tord gets drunk and gets laid, uwu, with green leader if the first ship tag wasn't obvious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterSauce/pseuds/SisterSauce
Summary: In movies, mothers-to-be always wrote sweet, sappy journals for their children to find and read later in their lives. Tord decided he was going to record messages and leave them behind so that his kid could listen to them after his inevitable death. Hopefully said death came from natural causes, and not at the hands of his own child’s father.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the shitstorm that took me almost two years to write! This has been in the works for a long time, and finally I have determined this to be the definitive version of MAAMH. Comment down below if you want to see some of the bonus chapters/past iterations in a separate "extras" book.

Perpendicular. The two red lines on the plastic stick Tord held in his hand were perpendicular. And there were tears rolling down his scarred cheeks-he could feel them-but his single hazel eye never strayed from those lines. Eventually he somehow tore his gaze away from the test, placing on the sink and taking a deep breath in. He let it out in a loud sigh, air whistling through the gap in his teeth. He absentmindedly wondered if they’ll receive that defining trait of his, or any others. He stood there for a while, trying to calm his jittery nerves as he stared at the stick laying innocently on his bathroom counter. The stick stared back. He felt sick, very, very sick. He barely threw himself onto the porcelain bowl before he began to vomit. He coughed and gagged, trying to breathe through his nose. The stomach acid burned his nostrils, causing his eye to water. And then it ceased. He gasped and panted like he just ran a marathon, eye slipping shut as he came down from his frantic moments. He swallowed back the bile threatening to come back up, getting up with help from the wall. Ignoring the remains of his dinner glaring at him, he washed his hands and left the bathroom in just a fuzzy bathrobe and boxers. He honestly looked stupid, but he couldn’t care less. He flopped down in his office chair, glancing over the treaty he’d left on his desk last night. The drunken, messy scrawl was hard to read, despite Drunk Tord using his best penmanship. The paper on his desk was the result of what sounded like a bad joke. Two opposing army leaders walk into a bar, have a few drinks, go back to their hotel room, have some ‘fun’, and then drunkenly make a treaty. Sure, both he and Edd were wasted, but they both knew it was coming. He had to hand it to Drunk Tord, he had pretty excellent foresight. He opened his laptop, finding the cleaner rewrite open in a document. Drunk Tord may have had the idea to make peace with his old friend, but Sober Tord could at least spell ‘treaty’ correctly. He spent almost two hours interpreting his own handwriting, finishing his rewrite of the document and sending it to Green Leader. He tucked his laptop away in his desk, reclining in his chair. He’d almost forgotten about his… condition. He retrieved the tester from his bathroom, turning it over in his hands. It still stunk, so he held it under the tap for about two minutes. In the end, he spend a good ten minutes cleaning it off but it still faintly smelled of piss.  
Now finished with his sole task for the day (Pau was putting the trainees through their paces today, and Pat took care of most of his paperwork), he decided to clean up the garbage dump that was his office. Taking great care, he sorted all of his papers by the date it was delivered to his office. He sorted out the parts from various inventions, putting them back in the buckets he’d labelled for that exact purpose. The only reason that he’d never put them to use was because he was too busy working to think about where things went. However, he encountered something in his quest to make his work space presentable. A tape recorder, sitting forgotten and caked in a layer of dust. He’d probably dropped it under his desk and then forgot he ever had it, as he’d done with many other things. He wiped it off, coughing when the dust clouded his vision. There was a tape in there, but he took it out and placed it down on his desk. It was probably from before he returned to London, and he didn’t want to relive those events. They already hung over his head like thunderclouds before it rained, and he didn’t want to enter that storm again until the day he died. Digging around in his desk, he looked to see if he had any tapes lying around. He’d invented so many futuristic devices that the one in his prosthetic hand was almost obsolete. Thankfully, the empty tapes had never left his office, untouched in a corner of his desk. He put it in, snapping it shut. Taking a shuddering breath in, he closed his eye and pressed record.

_“Uhh, hello? I really hope I’m not speaking too softly. Fuck, how should I start this? Well, let me start by introducing myself. Hey kid, this is your mor. That means mother in my mother tongue, Norwegian. You’ll probably grow up speaking English, and maybe a few other languages. I don’t know, plans can change as quickly as the wind changes direction. Hell, maybe you don’t live to hear this. Who knows. But that’s a really pessimistic way to introduce myself to you, so let me start over._

_(One take Tord, that’s all you need.)_

_Well, as I’m recording this I’m holding the tester that says that you exist. I can’t help but stare. Because for all the misadventures I’ve been on, none have been more terrifying than finding out there’s a clump of cells inside of you, one that will become a human person, just like you. You’ll never meet your grandfather (thank God) but I hated him. He was never around when I needed him, using the excuse ‘You need to learn to fend for yourself’ as a way to avoid paying child support. I don’t want to become like him. So let me lay down one thing for you, no matter what happens just know that I love you, and that I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you are safe and happy._  
...  
I don’t fucking know what to say. You exist, that’s all I know. I don’t know who you are, what you’re like. I’d be lucky to get even the slightest glimpse at what your favorite food is. All I know is that you’re my kid, and that things are about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.” 

Tord stopped the recording, pausing to wipe the salty tears forming in his eye. He was so fucking scared. He had no clue how to raise a baby, hell, he’d forget to eat sometimes. But, ignoring the tester and just feeling his toned belly, he could practically feel the potential teeming under his fingertips. Just under his skin was a human being, someone who’d become their own unique person, and would laugh, cry, fall in love, and struggle just like he did. And if that didn’t keep him going, then he knew damn well that nothing would.

He popped the tape out of the tape recorder, digging around in his office for something specific. Aha, there it was. A locked box whose lock still hadn’t been configured. He didn’t use it because there were a hell of a lot of other, much more secure ways to hide information, but it seemed right for something so precious, yet so insignificant to an outside viewer. Pulling up a calendar, he scrolled ahead nine months. March. He was due in March. Setting the lock to a random date in March, he opened it and placed the first tape inside. Then, he had an idea. Setting the tape down on the table, he grabbed a marker and messily scribbled _‘For Baby, Part 1’_ on it. He set it in the box, locking it and placing it on his shelf.  
Now satisfied with his handiwork, he decided to don his Red Leader regalia and see what his left and right hand men were up to. He shrugged the robe off, tossing it onto his bed for future use. He pulled on his military slacks and sweater, pulling his coat on afterwards. Standing in front of the full length mirror, he stared at his belly. Soon his toned muscles would disappear, moving and shifting to make way for his child. He stuck out his gut, imagining what he’d look like in uniform with a large belly. He laughed at how silly he looked, walking around the room to hunt down his shoes. Once he found them inside his closet, he stuck his sock-covered feet into the red boots. Now full dressed, he left his office and strolled down the hall to Pau and Pat’s shared office. Soldiers on their way to the mess hall for a quick breakfast saluted him, and he smiled to them. Then he had a thought, the clump of cells inside him would become the next Red Leader. His kid would have people saluting them soon enough. He couldn’t help but worry, there were always people looking to take advantage of the gap between a ruler dying and their heir coming to power. What if someone tried to murder them while they were young and naive?

_‘That won’t happen,’ he thought determinedly, ‘Not while my heart’s still beating.’_

He almost missed the door to Pau and Pat’s office, and he backtracked a little. Knocking on the door (a common courtesy that shielded him from accidentally walking in on his seconds getting freaky), he started fidgeting with his hands.

_‘What do I say to them? How do I break this news to my soldiers? Am I?’_

“Red Leader, sir, is everything okay?”

A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at Pat’s worried face. He must’ve been scowling unconsciously.

“No no, everything’s fine,” he lied, deciding that he’d hold his tongue for just a little while longer, “Just checking in.”

“Well come on in, boss,” Pau said, “I swear we’re not getting busy this time.”

“Good, because last time I was tempted to pop my eye out of its socket and wash it in bleach.”

He entered, noting how clean and tidy it was. Most definitely Pat’s work.

“So, is the treaty done?” the man in question asked, pulling up a chair.

Tord refused it, choosing to sit on the desk and allow his shorter legs to swing freely.

“Yup, done and sent out. Now all we have to do is wait, and keep an eye on our trainees.”

Both he and Pat glared at Pau, who shrugged.

“How was I, the person with literally a hundred people to keep track of, supposed to know that two of them had snuck off and shot a guy?” he defended himself, “I told them the rules, and corralled them to the best of my ability!”

“That is true Pau, but they’re your responsibility.”

“To hell with ‘em, they shouldn’t’ve wandered over the border.”

They argued the subject, the Dutchman putting up pretty arguable defenses, for almost fifteen minutes before eventually reaching a compromise.

“Okay Pau, we get it,” Pat sighed, “You did your best with both a disability and many other people to look after. We were only joking anyway.”

“But that ‘joke’ could’ve cost me my head!” Pau said, leaning back in his chair.

“You know I’d never do that to you,” Tord said softly, “Hell, you crashed a plane with me in it and you only had to sleep in the trainee barracks for what, five weeks?”

“Six, but who the hell is counting,” the other laughed.

They had a good laugh together, reminiscing on their other misadventures, such as the time when Pat was chased by an angry ram, or when Tord fell into quicksand up to his neck and just stood there and accepted it. Tord was belly laughing like he never had before, and especially not since he found out he was pregnant. He felt guilty for not telling the two men he trusted that he was pregnant, but this wasn’t something for them to know, even if they did know everything else about him.

“Well, that was a blast, but I have to go,” Tord said, wiping away a stray tear.

“Why boss? You don’t have anything else to do for the day,” Pau asked.

“You don’t want the rookies to eat all the food and leave nothing else, do you?”

The other men jumped out of their seats.

“Well, we better get going!”

The exited the room, walking down the hallways together. Soldiers saluted as they passed, some off to the mess hall, others getting started for the day. They didn’t pay them any mind, talking and laughing with each other. Once they reached the doors, Tord attempted to pull them open, struggling with the heavy metal.

“Let me get that for ya, boss,” Pau offered.

He gladly stepped aside, saving himself from further embarrassment. Pau opened the door for him, gesturing grandly for him to go inside. When he walked in, everyone present stood up and saluted them.

“Good morning Red Leader,” they said, almost like clockwork.

“At ease everyone,” he instructed, the soldiers relaxing instantly, “Just grabbing some breakfast.”

Everyone sat back down, relaxing immediately and going back to their prior conversations. Tord immediately went to grab some food, settling on a plate of pancakes. A lot of pancakes.

“Damn sir, did you leave any for anyone else?” Pau joked, tearing into the bacon he’d managed to snag while two girls were fighting over it.

He immediately felt guilty, picking at his food.

“C’mon Red, I was just joking,” he said, shrugging.

He tried to eat, after all he did puke up his guts this morning, but he just felt sick. He eventually decided to take them back to his office for a snack later. Bidding adieu to his seconds-in-command, he made his silent walk down the hall back to his office. This time, there were only a few people wandering around, and they didn’t seem to pay him any mind. Not that he cared, he wasn’t one to strictly enforce the salute. He continued quietly back to his office, seemingly like a phantom. He pondered his situation as he walked, trying to figure out his course of action. He was pregnant, and his army and, hell, even his two trusted people didn’t know. He figured it was some sort of self-preservation or protection against potential spies, but the truth was going to come out eventually. He didn’t think he’d be able to keep quiet during labor (if his screams of agony from when his right arm was removed were any indication), and someone would hear him. All hell would break loose, and he’d be on the run from thousands of highly trained people with a wide variety of weapons and tracking technology with a baby.

“What kind of rabbit hole did I dig myself into?” he mused.

He scanned his key card, opening and subsequently closing the door behind him. He set the remains of his breakfast on his desk, going to take off his uniform and replace it with his bathrobe. He laid in bed, wondering what the hell he was going to do, and before he realized it he was out cold.  
He woke up a while later feeling pretty nauseous. He stumbled out of his room and into his adjacent office, plopping down in his chair. He felt the urge to record a message, opening his desk drawer faster than he could think and pulling out the tape recorder. He put in a new tape, pressing record.

_“Uhh, hey there kiddo. I just wanted to vent some feelings, feel free to skip this one if you want. Or not, remember, I don’t know who you are just yet._  
…  
Have you ever been scared for yourself, but even more scared for someone else? That’s the situation I’m in right now. I’m scared that the army will turn on me if they find out I’m having you, but I’m even more scared of what they’re going to do to you. If they find out they might, t-they might-” 

Tord couldn’t even keep it together, bursting into tears. His finger twitched over the ‘stop’ button, but he had to finish his thought.

_“God, I’m so scared for you. They might force me to abort you. I don’t want that to happen, because you’re my little miracle. Nature said you weren’t able to happen, hell, biology itself said that you weren’t able to happen, but you said ‘No, fuck you’. You’re special kid, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother.”_

He pressed the ‘stop’ button, ejecting the tape. He labeled it as the next part and tucked it away in the box. Satisfied knowing he’d verbally vomited his fears for his kid to listen to later, he went back to bed. The clock read eight, and he ignored how abnormal it was for him to be in bed earlier than ten. He’d need every second of rest he could before this kid came.


	2. Two

Tord woke up early, barely coherent as he rolled out of bed. He groaned, dragging himself to the bathroom where he promptly coughed his guts up. He stayed slumped over the toilet for a while, trying to calm his churning stomach. When that didn’t work, he slowly got up and stumbled his way to the small kitchenette in his office. Digging through the small collection of pots and pans he kept at the ready, he found a small kettle perfect for just one person. He heard tea was good for nausea, and he couldn’t drink coffee anyway. He boiled the water, searching for what kind of tea he’d need. When he had his answer and his tea infuser (an adorable manatee that Pat had jokingly bought and never expected Tord to use) at the ready, he poured the water into a mug, placed the infuser in the water, and waited. In the meantime, he decided to check his email. Nothing new from Green Leader, but there were some messages from his high-ranking officers about a meeting that was today. Wait, meeting?

“Shit,” he swore, running back to his room to get ready. In his tired daze, he’d forgotten about a   
meeting he’d scheduled himself.

He threw on his turtleneck, slacks, and coat, quickly slipping on his boots. He cringed, knowing that his feet would be killing him by the time he came back, but there was no time to deal with socks. He transferred his now fully infused tea into a to-go cup, taking the warm beverage with him to sip throughout the probably hour-long meeting. He raced down the hall, barely slipping in the door before he was deemed late.

“Sorry I’m a little bit behind,” he apologized, composing himself, “I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

“It’s alright sir, we’re still waiting for your seconds so you’re not that late.”

And wait they did, for almost fifteen more minutes before Pau and Pat came through the door. Pau’s hair was mussed up, like someone was pulling on it, and his coat was sloppily buttoned. Tord cringed internally, knowing exactly what his right and left hand men were up to.

“Why are you two late?” he asked anyway, trying to seem professional.

“I was doing stuff,” Pat lied, sitting down in his appropriate seat.

‘I’m stuff’ Pau mouthed across the room to him, taking a seat as well. He rolled his eye playfully, giving the Dutchman a thumbs-up.

The first speaker stood up and began to present, but Tord could barely pay attention. His stomach growled, reminding him that he still hadn’t had breakfast yet. He flushed red when someone turned to look at him, embarrassed that the others present had heard him. He tried to pay attention at the mention of his name, however.

“What?” he asked.

“We were asking you if there was a response from Green Leader.”

He felt embarrassed for his scatter-brainedness, before remembering that he was pregnant. Even if the others didn’t know that, he could still get away with things.

“No, nothing yet,” he said, “Though we should call back our troops in Green territories so that he doesn’t feel threatened or pressured. This is a calm, relaxed discussion, and we don’t want to spoil it because some hot shot from the low ranks thinks he can go take down Green Leader.”

All eyes were on Pau, the one-eyed Dutchman huffing and crossing his arms.

“I told you it wasn’t my fault,” he mumbled underneath his breath, along with a few other obscenities.

The meeting continued, Tord taking sips of his tea from time to time. It really worked wonders, keeping him from blowing chunks everywhere and his stomach from growling too loudly. He wrapped up the meeting with his expectations and a quick salute, dismissing everyone when he finished. Pat however, couldn’t help but notice the changes in his leader’s disposition. He seemed tired and sick, always spending time in his office. He wasn’t on the battlefield anymore, instead choosing to find other ways to spend his time. Something fishy was going on, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.  
\---  
Tord went back to his office after the meeting, changing out of his uniform into sweatpants and a t-shirt he’d snagged from Tom when he moved out. He lounged around his office, going through the stack of paperwork delivered directly to him and not to Pat. When he finished that task, he decided it was time to make another tape. He dug out the tape recorder, this time buried under a mountain of office supplies, and popped a new tape in it.

“Hey kiddo. It’s me, your mom. Mom, I really like that title. You know what, I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to call me Mommy or Daddy, but right now I like Mommy more. I really like the idea of you coming up to me and asking ‘Mommy can I get a snack’ or ‘Mommy, do you wanna play with me?’. For every moment before when I was terrified out of my wits, there’s two moments when I’m happy. I don’t know, maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones talking.  
…  
(Fuck, what do I say? Tell them about the wonders of ginger tea?)  
I don’t know. Fuck it, I’m going to say what comes to mind. And the first thing is where you’re most likely going to live. I know having a small child around weapons and trained people who use said weapons is a recipe for disaster, but I don’t really have any options right now. The base is actually pretty nice, even though it’s freezing in the winter months. The people are pretty okay too, even if there are a few shady ones.  
(Between you and me, I think they act shady because it makes them look cool.)  
Pau and Pat especially are pretty okay, though they really need to draw the line between professional life and personal life. They’re going to be the best uncles (and pretty much your only uncles, I was the only boy in my family) ev-”

The door slammed open, two figures falling to the ground just inside the door. Tord grabbed his handgun, pointing it at the intruders.

“Don’t shoot!” one of them said, “It’s us, Tord.”

Pau and Pat picked themselves up, looking pretty guilty.

“I told you not to lean on the door,” Pat hissed to his partner. Pau just grinned sheepishly.

“Why the hell were you two listening in?” Tord asked, voice cracking as tears threatened to fall from his good eye, “H-how much did you hear?”

“Pretty much all of it,” Pau said bluntly.

Tord gasped, shakily setting the handgun down on his desk.

“No,” he whispered, “Nononono, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

“But sir-”

“No buts!” he said, “Please, just promise me.”

The two men shared a glance.

“Sir, this is about your health,” Pat pleaded, “You don’t have to tell anyone else, just tell Angelo and Otis.”

“No!” he roared, “They’ll just make me abort them!”

“Sir, you don’t know tha-”

The handgun was pointed at Pau’s forehead, stopping Pat short. The Dutchman put his hands in the air slowly, as to not provoke his leader to shoot.

“Nobody hears about this,” he said, voice unnaturally calm, “And your boyfriend doesn't get hurt. And the reverse is true too, just in case you wanted to try something.”

Pat and Pau nodded dumbly.

“Good, now get out.”

The two nearly tripped over themselves in their rush to leave. Tord sighed, going back to the tape recorder. Then, he realized that it had picked up the entire thing.

“...  
I’m sorry you had to hear that side of me, but desperate times call for desperate measures. God, I threatened to kill a man I’ve known for years, just because he found out about you.  
…  
I’d make a terrible mother.”

He stopped the tape, popping it out and considering adding it to his growing collection. He got his answer when he was setting it into the box, locking it away. They need to hear, he reminded himself repeatedly.  
Now that that fiasco was taken care of, he decided that some breakfast was in order. Without caring what the hell he was wearing or if he was showing or not, he walked out of his office barefoot, walking down the hall to the mess hall. Pat and Pau were in their office, and he avoided eye contact with them.

‘I’ll apologize in time,’ he said to himself ‘Right now, we need some time away from each other.’

He grabbed something small, just a bagel, and retreated back to his office. On his way back, however, he ran into Pau himself.

“H-hey Red Leader, sir,” he stammered, trying to go around him.

“Hello Pau,” Tord said, trying to do the same.

They eventually stopped, staring each other in the eye.

“Listen,” he started warily, “I’m sorry.”

“You better fucking be,” Pau growled, “You threatened to pump Pat and I full of lead!”

“I didn’t mean it!” Tord said, backing up, “I panicked, you had found out and-”

“Tord, shut up. You held guns to our heads, threatened our lives, forced us into silence, for what? A fucking baby!”

He jumped into action, clapping a hand over the Dutchman’s mouth, but it was too late. All eyes were on him and Pau. Tord bolted, slamming the door to his office shut behind him. He placed his weight against the sanded wood, sobbing into his hands. They knew now, the jig was up. The only thought in his mind was ‘Make a tape, make a tape’. So he wearily picked himself up and grabbed the tape recorder with shaking hands. He placed the tape inside, having to readjust it because it was in backwards. Once it was ready, he pressed record.

“They know. Pau told them.  
…  
I’m so scared for us. I barricaded the door with a bookshelf so if they decide to riot I have time to finish this tape, grab the box, and run like hell.  
I have no clue how they’ll react. Not knowing how people are going to react is one of the most terrifying factors in talking to someone. Imagine it being like telling your parents you’re pregnant. You don’t know if they’ll kick you out, force you to abort the kid, or support you.

Oddly enough, that’s the situation I’m in. Except instead of it being two people I have to worry about, it’s thousands of people, who have access to lethal weapons and know how to use said lethal weapons.  
…  
I don’t think I want to move that shelf and find out what they think.”

He popped the tape out, labelling it and placing it in the box. He debated the idea for a while, before going to pack his travel bag. He filled it up with food, clothes, and water bottles. Basically, everything he’d need to survive long enough to find someone who’d take him in. Or would hand him over to the authorities, that was also an answer.  
He kept the duffle back on his desk, listening past the bookshelf to see if he could hear the telltale signs of a riot starting. But it was absolute silence. That only caused him to worry, silence in the halls meant an organized plan to kill him. He cowered in fear under his desk, hands over his slightly swollen middle for what seemed like hours, before he heard a gentle knock on the door. He put a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, slowly crawling over to the barricaded door.  
He heard a muffled, “Red Leader, please let us in!”, ignoring it. Instead, he sat by the bookshelf, curling up on the floor. He let a soft sob escape his lips, hormones not helping his situation.

“Red Leader sir,” Pat said softly, “I know you’re scared, but you have to come out. Everyone’s worried.”

‘Worried that I want to keep them,’ Tord thought bitterly, shaking his head despite Pat not being able to see him.

“Please sir. Nothing’s set in stone, we just want to talk.”

“On one condition,” he said, voice cracking.

“And what might that be?”

“That you don’t force me to do anything.”

“... Sir, as headstrong as you are, I can’t make that promise.”

“Then I can’t leave. I can’t let you hurt them.”

On the other side of the door, Pat was starting to get frustrated. As much as he wanted to promise Tord that nothing would happen to his unborn child, he knew it was one he couldn’t keep. If the situation called for their leader to abort his child, he’d have to make that sacrifice. He didn’t want to make a promise and then feel the guilt of having to go back on it.

“Sir, please,” he begged, “Just talk. If you don’t want to agree to our terms, then you can go back to your office. Just talk to us.”

“No Pat, I can’t trust you.”

That hurt the Polish man more than any wound. Tord, the person he’d known since pretty much college, didn’t trust him.

‘So what happened to all the things that he told me in confidence?’ he thought to himself.

“Tord, open up or I’m coming in,” Pau said, interrupting him as he was about to say something.

“No! Go away.”

Now he was just acting like a child having a tantrum.

“Open the hell up Tord! Can’t you see we’re trying to help you?”

Radio silence.

Pau continued, “The army is heavily conflicted about whether or not you should keep them, and   
we’re trying to intercede on your behalf. This is only giving the people against you ammo. So open up, or we’re just going to give up and let them have at you.”  
Tord was silent, weighing his options. If he opened the door, there was a possibility of Pau and Pat tackling him and forcing him to kill his kid. If he didn’t, the chance was one hundred percent.

It took a little bit of effort, and a lot of stopping because he got tired, but he eventually moved the bookshelf away from the door. He dried his tears, trying to make himself look presentable, before opening the door. Pau and Pat were standing on the other side, the former smoking a cigarette.

“Come in you two, and get Otis and Angelo,” he instructed with a sigh, “And Pau, put that coffin nail out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2401 words
> 
>  
> 
> gucci
> 
> -SisterSauce


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight warning for mentions of sex, alcohol, child support, violence, also, otis has a potty mouth. and don't bitch about there being ocs, gotta fill out the ranks somehow. there will be some more ocs throughout this fic, but you'll still have all the basic guys you all know and love :3c

Otis wasn’t one for sugar coating. He told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Sure, it was one of his fatal flaws (the other being his redhead assistant), and not the best trait to have as a doctor, but his patients were soldiers. They could handle it. Except when they couldn’t.  
Tord was one of those people. The Norski was perched on his desk, fiddling nervously with a tape recorder as they discussed their course of action.

“Alright sir,” he started, “Let me just spell this out for you. You are the leader of an army. You   
have a responsibility to lead your soldiers, if not on the battlefield, then at least through tough times. Currently, the Red Army is on thin fucking ice trying to make peace with their long-time enemies, the Green Resistance. You find out you’re fucking pregnant and what do you do? You hide it, and not a soul knows what’s going on. You do realize that if we don’t know, we can’t change security measures to protect you, right?”

Tord avoided eye contact with him, nodding ever so slightly.

“Then why the hell did you keep it from us?!”

He squirmed slightly, seeming pretty uncomfortable. Angelo, as it seems, could sense the tense atmosphere (how could he not, it was nearly suffocating), and tapped his partner on the shoulder.

“Otis,” he said gently, “Now isn’t the time.”

“Now is the perfect time!” the brunette said, slapping the redhead’s hand away, “I want to know what the hell was going through that peabrain of his!”

“Otis!” Angelo yelled, silencing everyone.

“Outside, now,” he said, narrowing his green eyes.

Otis made the walk of shame outside, closing the door behind him.

“That means all of you! Get out!”

Pau and Pat quickly joined the brunette, not willing to stick around to face his wrath.  
Now alone with Tord, he turned to his leader.

“Tord, what happened?” he asked, “We told you that you can trust us, why didn’t you trust us with this?”

The Norwegian mumbled something under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s okay to say it, it’s just the two of us. I’m not going to yell at you.”

“I thought you were going to force me to abort them and tell me it was for the good of the   
army.”

Angelo hummed, nodding his head.

“That is a pretty valid reason,” he noted, “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Otis, Pau, and Pat may be assholes sometimes, and excuse it with ‘It’s for the good of the army’ but I still have your back.”

The redhead took his leader’s hands, lacing their fingers together.

“No matter what happens, I support you Tord. They don’t know it yet, but by keeping them you’re going to do the army a big favor. I suppose you know what I’m hinting at?”

“An heir,” Tord breathed, “Their my kid, so they’ll inherit the army.”

“Tord, don’t ever let them cause you to doubt your decisions. They need to get their heads out of their asses and realize that you’re their leader, not the other way around. They can say whatever the hell they want, at the end of the day you are the one making the decision. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Tord said softly, “Thanks Angelo.”

“It’s what I’m here for, sir. Now let’s let the others back in, shall we?”

Angelo opened the door, leaning just outside it and saying something to the trio waiting outside. They then filed back in, Otis glaring daggers at Tord, but not saying anything.

The redhead started by saying, “I talked with Tord.”

“And? Did you find out why he’s acting so stupid?”

The man in question flinched, shrinking in on himself. Angelo glared at his partner, answering his question.

“Yes, I found out his motives,” he said, venom directed at the other man dripping from his voice, 

“Tord, do you want to tell them?”

A vigorous head shake. Angelo sighed, explaining on his behalf.

“He was scared you were going to force him into an abortion. He had no clue how you were going to react, and so his instincts told him not to take that chance.”

“Okay, he was scared we were gonna hold him down and shove a coat hanger up his ass, so what?”

“So he was scared of you! Otis, you yelling isn’t going to make anything better. In fact, it’s only going to make things worse. So you either calm down and get your act together, or you can leave and settle on the decision we make for you. How does that sound?”

Otis grumbled under his breath, mumbling obscenities directed at his other half that he didn’t really mean.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about this kid. Tord, when did you find out?”

“A few days ago,” the Norwegian mumbled, going back to playing with the tape recorder.

“Okay, and do you know who the father is?”

Tord froze, eye widening. It was obvious that Angelo was digging into something he didn’t want to share.

“Well, who’s the baby daddy?” Otis piped up, not helping the situation.

“No,” he mumbled, “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Red, we need to identify this person! They obviously owe you child support money, and I want to maim that fucker for putting their dick in you and causing a whole slew of problems!”

“Fine!” Tord yelled, “I was drunk, okay! I don’t really remember who it was, I was wasted. Though I remember waking up in a hotel.”

Otis’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

“You fucking dumbass! You’re leader of an army, and a wanted man, and you go get drunk? God only knows how many people know all your secrets!”

“Otis, shut the hell up!” Angelo roared.

“Oh, so you’re defending him now? Great, now both wishy-washy people are on the same side!”

“What the hell did you call me?”

“You know what I said you fucking pussy!”

As they argued, Tord couldn’t help but feel responsible. This was his problem, and his problem alone, and because he let it slip Angelo and Otis’s relationship was slipping along with it. He climbed off his desk, sneaking around the arguing couple. He slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him. He walked down the empty halls, using his key card to let him outside and onto the grounds. Nobody suspected him as he made his way to an empty warehouse, using one of the old fingerprint scanners to get inside. He walked around amongst the rows of unused crates, enjoying the silence for once. He sat cross-legged atop a small stack, rubbing his barely-showing belly.

“Finally, it’s just you and me kiddo,” he said softly.

He pulled the tape recorder out of his sweatpants pocket, turning it over in his hands. He had left a tape in there from the last recording, and was grateful for his insight. He pressed play, and began to record.

_“Hey kid. It’s your mor. I’m starting to doubt my decision to keep you. So many people are saying that you’re wrong, and that you shouldn’t exist. Even the people I thought I could trust. Angelo is a big help, though. He has my back, and I’m glad for one person who wants you. I’m sitting outside the base in a warehouse, that’s why my voice is so, you know, echoey. It’s nice and quiet out here, and it’s a nice place to go to escape the hustle and bustle of the army life. I want to take you out here sometime so that you can see the stars._

_I wonder what my soldiers would say if they saw me like this. Would they be appalled? Disgusted to see their leader acting so weak? Or would they say I’m brave for taking on this challenge. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and being a leader and raising a child takes an army.  
I guess I’ll just have wait and see how big that army really is.” _

He completed the tape, popping it out and turning it over in his hands. He stuck it in his pocket for later, also pocketing the tape recorder.  
Then the door creaked open, and Tord nearly jumped out of his skin.  
“Tord?” a gruff voice asked, scratchy from a lifetime of smoking. Pau.

He climbed down from his box tower, meeting the man on the ground.

“You can’t just disappear like that,” he laughed softly.

“What if I wanted to disappear?” the Norwegian said back, playfully putting his hands on his hips.

“That’s besides the point. Why are you out here?”

“Because I wanted to just have a moment of quiet. That is, until you came tromping in here.”

“Oh? Do you want me to leave?”

Tord smiled, saying “No, stay. You can help me get that window open and we can look at the stars.”

Pau smirked, climbing up a precariously tall stack of crates to reach the skylight. He opened it with ease, allowing the moonlight to flow in where the dirty glass previously was. Tord laid down on the ground, the Dutchman doing the same once he descended to terra firma.

“Next time, bring a blanket or something,” Pau said, shifting his position, “I can feel the rabies, tetanus, and STDs soaking in.”

“Pau, it’s impossible to get any of those from just laying on the ground.”

“They’re still there.”

“STD stands for sexually transmitted disease, Pau.”

Tord curled up to the broader man’s side, Pau pulling him closer and wrapping an arm around him. The two stayed together, watching the stars, until Tord began to doze off. The other wasn’t moving, not wanting to risk waking the pregnant man up, and stayed there until he too fell asleep.  
\---  
It wasn’t the first time Tord was woken up by pounding boots, and God save his soul it wouldn’t be the last. He jolted awake, whipping around so fast he damn near got whiplash. Then noticed Pau snoring loudly on the floor next to him.

‘We must’ve fallen asleep last night,’ he realized, getting up.

The tape recorder was still in his pocket, the tape along with it. He got up, stretched, tried not to vomit, failed, and once he’d recovered enough from his morning sickness he began the lengthy and challenging task that was waking up his right hand man.

“Pau,” he whispered, “Time to get up.”

Nothing, the man was still sleeping like a rock.

“Pau!” he said, loud enough for the walls to echo his voice, “Get up!”

He thought for a minute on what to say to get the Dutchman up, and then it hit him. A wicked grin spread across his face and he could barely contain his laughter as he leaned to whisper in his second’s ear.

“The trainees are going to eat all the pancakes.”

Pau shot up as if he sat on a pin and was struck by lightning at the same time.  
“What the hell are we waiting for, the second coming? Let’s go get some food!” he said animatedly, damn near kicking down the door in his rush to the mess hall.

“Classic Pau,” Tord said, smiling, “Could never turn down an offer for food.”

He made his way after the other man, albeit a little slower. Hopefully his friend remembered that he was eating for two, and managed to snag him something substantial. As he made his way through the winding halls, looking for all he was worth like a tornado survivor, he noticed some whispers and glances when the trainees thought he wasn’t looking. He mostly ignored them, even if they were with an angry tone. They’d come to love the new addition to their in and out routine eventually, whether they liked it or not.

“Red Leader sir,” Pat said with a small salute.

“At ease Pat, what’s up?”

“Someone reported some trouble in the mess hall, something about a riot or something. Stay away from there, and maybe go back to your office just in case it gets violent.”

“But Pau’s in there!” he said, causing the other to gasp in shock.

A ‘ding’ went off from his pocket, and Pat checked his junk phone.

_‘help’_  
‘riot in the mess hall’  
‘trapped in a corner behind a barricade with others’  
‘need backup’ 

“Oh my god,” the Polish man said, “This is much bigger than just a tiny fight.”

“Send a few loyal troops to get the people Pau is protecting behind the barricade, and let them take their course with as little damage as possible. If they’re on the verge of breaking something expensive or if they’re heading to my personal quarters, then start corralling them in the opposite direction and containing them,” he instructed, “I’m going to head back as quickly as possible and barricade the door. You know how to reach me if you absolutely need to get in.”

With that, the two men ran in opposite directions, Tord to his office and Pat to go get help. Once the Norwegian had entered his office he put it on external lockdown, cutting power to the main doors and allowing absolutely no access, even to his key. For good measure he again barricaded the door with a bookshelf, only managing to push it halfway before he became very tired. He deemed it finished, going on to label his tape from the previous night. He placed in the box along with the steadily growing collection.  
He sighed, absentmindedly rubbing his belly.

“Man, you’re already setting the world on fire,” he purred, “My brave little soldier.”

The quiet was interrupted by a loud ‘bang’, Tord immediately dropping to the floor. He gasped in pain as he began to cramp up, swearing under his breath. There was pounding from the other side of the door, and another loud ‘bang’ as someone tried to ram the door open. Hand clamped over his mouth, he tried to scoot away from the incessant noise. He could hear shouting, and then a spray of gunfire. None of it managed to even penetrate the thick metal covering the door, but he couldn’t help but imagine what might happen if they managed to pierce the veil over the door and-  
There was a knocking sound behind him, and he jumped. He barely noted that the voices had dulled to a minimum, and the gunfire had ceased.

“Red Leader sir?” Pat asked.

He sighed in relief, nobody had stumbled upon their secret tunnels built under the building.

“Come in you two,” he said, trying to calm his pounding heart.

A large bookcase swung open, revealing Pat and a disgruntled looking Pau.

“Everything okay?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a lockdown function, they tried to storm your office but the squadron we sent to deal with them took ‘em down nice and easy. They’re going on trial soon for treason, and they’ll be in a morgue by next week,” the Polish man said.

“Good, good,” he said, biting his lip during the uncomfortable silence, “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I’m pretty, y’know, fragile in this state. Hell, just getting on the ground is a struggle. This kid is inhibiting my ability to fight back, and if I don’t have a weapon then I’m screwed.”

“So you’re saying we should up security?”

“Exactly my point. Especially after that riot, there’s obviously people who don’t approve of my pregnancy.”

Pau nodded along, hands itching to light a cigarette. Instead, he held the cancer stick between his lips, chewing on it.

“Sir, we’ll change anything you need, but you need to promise us one thing,” he said.

“And what might that be?”

“You need to promise us you’ll take a break, Tord.”

“Pau we’ve got riots breaking out, and you’re telling me to take a break?” he said indignantly.

“Sir, it’s for your health,” Pat said firmly, “This baby’s going to take a lot out of you.”

“And what the hell do you know?”

The Polish man narrowed his eyes at his leader.

“A lot actually, sir. I assisted my sister when she had her baby.”

Well, color Tord dumbfounded.

“You are going to rest Tord, you need it.”  
Tord sighed, giving in to his second’s demands.

“Alright, alright. I just hope you like extra work,” he joked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2725 words
> 
>  
> 
> see? cute happy time! also, some platonic paultord because y'all know how much of a slut i am for paultord uwu
> 
>  
> 
> peace sisters! SisterSauce out


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of my favorite chapters to write, especially the second half. hope you enjoy!

The next few months were some of the most peaceful in Tord’s life. No longer was he plagued by the constant flow of work and stress, allowing him to become more mellow and calm. He certainly ate more- Pat practically shoved food down his throat- and his middle swelled to a near impossible size. On multiple occasions Tord wondered if there was just one child occupying the space. He was happy, his seconds were happy (that their boss was finally relaxing, not about their sudden jump in responsibilities), and most of his army was happy. He was worried about the presence of rioting groups amongst his soldiers, but Pat reassured him that they were being dealt with. As it turns out, it was a lot bigger than just his baby.

Tord was reading a not-for-children children’s book (a personal favorite known as Go the Fuck to Sleep) out loud when an explosion rocked the building. He reached for his walkie talkie, trying to connect with Pat.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked as the ground itself trembled again.

_“-Under -ack,” the Polish man’s voice crackled out of the speaker, “-een -stance.”_

The Green Resistance.  
Tord gasped, damn near throwing himself into his desk chair. Opening his email he was horrified at what he saw. A declaration of war, a formal ‘fuck you’ to his treaty, was sitting innocently in his inbox.

“Pat, send our remaining troops to fend them off!”

_“That’s the -ing sir,” he said, static cutting off his words, “Organ- -iot, -pies.”_

“Green sent spies to draw our attention and turn our soldiers against us? Fuck,” he swore, “Who’s left?”

_“-ot many, lots defected or are working for the -nemy.”_

“Shit shit shit, rally what we’ve got and play it defensively. I’m kind of down for the count right now, and we’ve got precious cargo.”

_“-s sir.”_

The connection crackled pitifully once more and then went dead. He chucked the useless hunk of plastic at the door with such force that the casing snapped apart. So much for it being able to withstand anything, it couldn’t even hold up to a pregnant man’s bitch fit.  
That word kept coming back, pregnant. He heard whispers of it in the halls between trainees, Pat and Pau muttered it under their breath when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He was pregnant, as in growing a human life within him. If the Resistance managed to get it, then that life would be-  
He derailed the thought, deciding to make another tape to keep his mind off the nagging whispers in his head. He grabbed the tape recorder off his nightstand, popping a tape in it and pressing play.

_“Hey kid. Not to start this off on the wrong foot or anything, but your chances of surviving to listen to these is decreasing by the second._  
I can hear their screams, the cries of pain of soldiers who are willing to die for their leader. The same leader who can’t lift a finger to help them.  
I mean, I am helping them one way or another. By having you, I’m protecting their legacy. But that also means I can’t help save them in the here and now. … Hey, I’ve got a little activity for you to do. Once you’re done listening to this tape (or now, I’m not going to be able to stop you anyways) go ask me what I think about the decision to protect someone’s legacy versus saving them in the present now. If I’m still even around. Huh. 

__

_Did you know that beyond great grandparents, most people don’t remember someone? That means your children’s children’s children will have forgotten about me already. That is, unless you continue my legacy, and your children continue your legacy. Either that or I die now and they remember me as Red Leader, the man who died protecting a child who was never meant to be._

_You know I’m joking right? I said it before, and I’m stressing it now, you are special, one of a kind. You defied science and made yourself a little home inside me. … I like being that little home. Sure, it’s terrifying once you realize that ‘Fuck, I have no clue how to do this’, but does anyone? It’s a learning experience, and there are times where you’ll look back and say ‘I fucked up big time’, but an apology is always a good start._  
…  
If only someone had told me that sooner.” 

Tord sighed, popping the tape out and replacing it with a brand new tape for later. His head was buzzing, and he was starting to feel dizzy. He tried taking deep breaths to calm his jittery nerves, but then another explosive was set off, causing him to jump. The Greens seemed hellbent on either blowing them to pieces or destroying the base, and that terrified him. The world around him began to spin, and he groaned before collapsing to the floor. Out of the corner of his good eye, he could see the glint of a needle sticking out of his leg. He tried to pull it out, missing multiple times with his fading vision. When he eventually fainted from the sedatives injected into his bloodstream, a squadron of Green Resistance soldiers crawled out of the vent, the leader holding a dart gun.

“Let’s get him and go before the Reds figure out what we’re up to,” she said, motioning to her soldiers.

They picked up Red Leader’s limp body, cuffing him before dragging him away to their vehicle. Outside, Green Leader was waiting for them intently.

_“Good job,” he purred, “Let’s get going, we have what we came for.”_

\---  
Color Pau shocked when the Green Resistance soldiers who were viciously attacking the base turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. Pat was going to make a move to chase after them, but he stopped him.

“If they’re leaving, then they obviously have another goal that they accomplished,” he said, “We need to make sure that everyone inside is okay, then we can focus on hunting them down.”

“You mean everyone who’s left,” the Polish man spat, “We lost a lot of troops due to spies.”

Pau rolled his eye, motioning to his troops to return back to base with them. In the meantime, Pat tried to get in touch with Tord through the communicator in his robotic arm.

“The signal’s being interrupted,” he said, worried, “That can’t be because of the base, we set it at the perfect frequency that it only works either outside or in our base.”

“Then that means-”  
Before he could finish his sentence however, Yuu came running up to him.

“Pau! They completely tore up Red Leader’s office! Yan and I couldn’t find even a trace of him or where they went!” he babbled, tears already starting to pool in his eyes.

“First of all, calm down,” the large bowed man sighed, “You’re no use to anyone while you’re crying.”  
The blonde took deep breaths, trying to relax.

Once he deemed his friend ready to speak, Pau asked him, “Alright, what happened?”

“R-Red Leader,” Yuu whimpered, “He’s gone.”

The Dutchman’s eye went wide, and he accidentally started to shake his friend back and forth as he demanded answers.

“What the hell do you mean gone?!” he yelled, “Who did it?!”

“Some Green Resistance soldiers,” he explained, “We think someone opened the back door to ‘em while we were fighting off an invasion.”

“Oldest trick in the book,” Pau spat, “Creating a diversion. Do you know where they took him?”

“His tracker’s intact and we’re following the signal, but it keeps fading in and out,” the blonde reported, “We’re pretty sure Green’s taking him to the city.”

“Damn that cheeky bastard,” the eyebrowed man hissed, “Should’ve known he was trouble from the time he waxed my eyebrows with Scotch tape in sixth grade.”

“Come again?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pau sighed, “You and Yanov start getting our ducks in a row so that if they decide to attack again we’re prepared. Pat and I will investigate further.”

“Yes sir!” the blonde said, saluting playfully.  
The two went about their separate ways, Yuu to the rookie bunks and Pau to Red Leader’s office. When he got there, he found it to be torn up, just like his blonde friend described.

“Damn, they really made a mess of the place,” he said, looking around.

His first clue was that the vent cover was missing. It was laying on the ground, along with the broken remains of an invention Tord was tinkering with before he…  
He almost stepped on and crushed the next clue: a tranquilizer dart.

‘They must’ve knocked him out and then kidnapped him right under our noses’ he thought to himself, turning the empty needle over in his hands.

“It’s custom made,” he said, staring at the tiny engraving on the metal cap, “By Bing himself.”

The former movie director was making millions off of the war by copying and selling bootleg versions of Tord’s weapons. The Norwegian didn’t particularly care about the copyright issues (he didn’t even bother to get a patent for them, it wasn’t necessary at the time), but what he did care about was the person who sold him the materials needed to create a powerful prosthetic arm basically arming the enemy. It was always a side mission to find and screw over Bing, but now they actually had reason to hunt the bootlegger down.

“Well,” he said, chucking the empty needle into the trash can, “Time to pay a visit to our old friend.”

\---  
By the time Larry was in his forties, he was living just for the sake of living. Sure, his husband was a blessing, but he was kind of a stupid blessing. So when he heard pouding on the door and a shout of “Red Army, open up!”, he took a chance and opened the door.

“What do you want?” he asked. He knew he looked like a trash gremlin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“We want to speak with Bing,” a man with large eyebrows demanded.

“I suggest you don’t, if you want to keep your brain cells intact,” he quipped, “I feel ten times dumber just waking up next to him every morning.”

Eyebrows seemed dumbfounded, but masked his surprise with a neutral look that rivalled his own.

“Listen, we just want to talk,” he explained, “No promises, but we’ll try not to kill your…”

“Husband,” Larry interrupted, “And sure, anything for someone who’s as dead inside as I am.”

He invited the two men inside, motioning for them to sit. He went upstairs, yelling for his dumbass husband to get up.

“Get up you old coot!” he said, shaking the other awake, “We have company.”

Bing groaned, getting up and stumbling downstairs. When he saw the two Red Army men sitting at his dining table, he shrieked and ran straight back upstairs.

“Larry, why the hell did you let them in?!” he asked.

“Shut up stupid, they only want to talk.”

“And you believe them?!”

After a short shouting match, Larry reemerged with Bing nestled against his back.

“Are you two done?” Pau asked.

“Yes,” he responded, setting a sleepy Bing in a chair and pulling up one next to him.

“So, time to get to what we came for,” Pat said, “Do you know where the capital city of Green Territory is?”

“Of course,” Bing scoffed, “Who doesn’t?”

“Us apparently,” Pau scoffed back, Larry chuckling under his breath.

“It’s in the heart of Britain, but you aren’t getting in there without a fight.”  
Pau and Pat thought on it for a bit, whispering to each other.

“Do you know any back door routes in to Green’s base?” the latter asked after a while.

“Not that I know of, but I do have a special access card. Though, help doesn’t come without a price these days,” the brunette said with an evil grin, rubbing his index, middle finger, and thumb together.

“We’re trying to get our indisposed leader back before Green fucks him up,” Pau growled, “We’ll get you your damn money, just give us the card now!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I may want my money now. And it better come soon, or I might let it slip to Green Bean that you’re asking me to help you crack his defenses.”

Larry was about to advise his husband to not piss off the men with guns in their house, when the large browed man snapped.

“RED LEADER IS FUCKING PREGNANT, AND YOU CAN’T GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR GREEDY ASS AND THINK FOR ONCE?” he roared, slamming his hands on the table.

There was dead silence between the four of them, each mulling over his words.

“We’ll give you the card,” Larry said after a while, “Just go get him back, and return it. Do whatever damage you please, but don’t completely wipe out one of our major clients. Have to pay the bills somehow.”

Pau nodded, accepting the slim plastic he was given.

“Thank you,” he said, holding back tears at the thought of what Green Leader might be doing to their leader.

“No problem. Despite what Bing might say, our lips are sealed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2205 words
> 
>  
> 
> damn, this got oddly philosophical. huh.  
> well, the next chapter ramps it up a bit more. expect a new ship next chapter uwu (here's a hint: what ship do i want for @hetalianGemini15 's HEL Series?)


	5. OwO what's this? (IMPORTANT, PLS READ)

attention all fornite gamers, sister sauce needs your help. she's posted mad as a march heir on wattpad, but it's midnight and nobody has read it yet. you can help, by posting your mom or dad's credit card number, the expiration date, and the four wacky numbers on the back in the comments of her cross post on wattpad.

 

here's the link gamers: https://www.wattpad.com/722331885-mad-as-a-march-heir-pizza-pasta-put-it-in-a-box


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord is scared of the future, but there's a beacon of hope in the form of a rose quartz crystal lamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAVY TW for the beginning for blood, violence, and just overall cruelty. 
> 
> I'll put in the text when the TW ends, but if you want to skip go to "Tord woke up"

\---WARNING: (TW) HEAVY VIOLENCE, BLOOD---

 

_“Well well well, what do we have here?”_

_Tord tried to scramble away from Edd’s reach, finding that he had backed himself into a corner._

_“Nowhere else to run, **Red Leader** ,” the brunette leader growled menacingly, “Time’s up.”_

_A whip cracked, and he screamed. Crimson blood ran across the concrete, and Tord swallowed back the bile that threatened to come up. Another lash sent him onto his side, curling around his belly in a futile attempt to protect his unborn. Edd took notice of the action, kicking him in the chest. He must’ve been wearing steel-toed boots, as the Norwegian leader felt something snap in his chest, most likely a rib. He cried out again in pain, voice pitching as another whip strike caught him on his scarred side. Edd reared back to kick him again, and his vision went white and then black as that damned boot connected squarely in the middle of his swollen belly. He wailed in agony, whimpering softly as more blood flowed. Another two strikes, and it was over. Edd stood back to admire his handiwork, chuckling at Tord’s pathetic whining. He turned around and promptly left, though not without a final kick to the former Red Army head’s middle. Tord laid in a puddle of his own blood and tears, vomiting at the stench. He could feel his baby’s life draining away, and the beginnings of his contractions began to poke at his shattered heart._

_“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, “I’m so sorry.”_

\---TW OVER---

 

Tord woke up with an audible gasp, covering his mouth when the sound caused him to flinch. He whipped his head around wildly, heart well out of his throat and damn near about to fall out of his mouth. Once his erratic heartbeat settled, and he realized that he was, in fact, not bleeding out on the floor, he groaned softly at the pain in his stomach.

“Must’ve jarred you,” he whispered, smoothing a hand over his large middle, “Sorry kiddo.”

He rolled onto his side, climbing out of bed with shaky legs. Now that he wasn’t worried for his or his child’s safety, he really got a chance to look at his surroundings. His cell was the standard prison fare, bed chained to the wall, toilet, and sink, with the window in the door being the only light source. He also noted that he wasn’t cuffed, though it wasn’t like he could escape anyway. The door was passcode protected and the Greens must’ve assumed that he wasn’t much of a threat. They assumed correctly. He sighed, walking around and getting used to his new home. After all, his fate wasn’t in his hands anymore, so he could be here for months. The thought of having to give birth in this small space popped up in his mind, and Tord shoved it back down. There was no use in scaring himself, he had to stay strong. If not for himself, then for the tiny human being depending on him. He put his hands in his sweatpants pockets, jumping in surprise when he came across something in them. The tape recorder. He opened the top, smiling widely when he saw a brand new tape in it. He trudged back to the stiff mattress, laying on his side and pressing record.

 

_“Hey there kiddo. It’s your mor. And the cards are currently not in my hands._  
I’m recording this from inside the belly of the beast. Not literally, I swear. I was never one for the darker side of the internet. I’m just shuddering at the thought of a name search.  
Tumblr references aside, right now I’m in prison. A Green Army prison, in the middle of enemy territory at that. I’m pretty scared right now, though I’d never show it. I’m so vulnerable right now. We’re so vulnerable right now. Any soldier thinking they’re a hotshot could easily come in and kill me in cold blood. I could be taken advantage of, and never be able to fight back. Hell, my army could fuck me up from a misplaced charge. The point is, my fate is no longer in my own hands, and that scares me quite a bit. I’m trying to suppress it, but I’ve always been a bit of a control freak. Especially when it comes to me and my personal life. Maybe that’s why he left? Having to depend on someone else for my well being is doing all sorts of things to my mind. Combine that with my now extremely vivid, gorey nightmares, and you have a recipe for PTSD. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.  
But I digress.” 

He didn’t remove the tape, instead pressing stop. He searched his pockets, even turning them inside out, but didn’t find any replacements.

“I guess I’ll just have to be careful not to use it up,” he sighed, rolling onto his back.

He stared at the ceiling for so long, his eyelids fluttered shut and he fell into the deepest sleep of his entire life.

He forgot how long he sat there, curled up on that battered mattress. He did recall having a mental debate whether or not the Green Rebellion pilfered bedbug-infested mattresses off the side of the road, however. His mind ran around in circles until the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He turned, finding Green Leader standing outside his cell door. He flinched, noting his pleased smirk. He was obviously celebrating the capture of the elusive Red Leader, even if it was just in his mind.

 

“Well well well, look who we have here.”

Those words chilled him to the bone, and tears he didn’t even realize were forming streaked down his cheeks.

“Get away from me,” he growled, “You don’t get to take over my army from the inside and then show up like nothing happened.”

“Funny, that’s the exact same thing I told you when you last ‘hosted’ me,” Edd purred from the other side of the door.

 

Tord watched through the small window as he pressed his hand to a fingerprint scanner. It beeped, and the door slid open. He walked in slowly, being sure to block the former leader’s only exit. Tord stepped backwards, falling backwards onto the mattress. He scrambled up, pressing his back against the wall.

 

“Fuck off,” he growled again, “Why the hell are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to pay a visit to an old friend~”

 

Edd grabbed his chin roughly, forcing the deposed leader to stare him in the eyes. Tord lashed out, kicking him in the stomach and making a break for it. The door was locked however, and no matter how hard his metal fist pounded into it nothing happened.

 

“Big mistake, Red,” Edd growled, holding his stomach.

 

Tord felt his stomach drop, and he turned around to find a furious looking Green Leader approaching him. He cowered in fear, heart pounding with adrenaline. His head buzzed, and his palms were sweaty. Everything seemed too much, too much too mu-  
Edd sure as hell didn’t expect the great and powerful Red Leader to faint on the spot, slumping to the ground as his singular hazel eye rolled back into his head. He huffed, moving over to grab his unconscious prisoner. He dragged the other all the way to his mattress, muttering to himself about how fucking heavy Tord was. Edd laid his body down on, rolling his eyes before leaving. The door shut with a resounding bang, and he walked back down the hallway to the barricaded door. With Red Army soldiers or their leader, there was no taking chances.  
\---  
The beep of machines around him was pretty annoying, and it took a total of ten seconds for him to get tired of it. His eye shot open, and he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a small room with pastel yellow walls. The color wasn’t bright or in-your-face, but more subtle. It was actually pretty nice to wake up to.  
The rest of the room was plain, with the medical equipment taking up the majority of it, though there were some small objects lying around that gave the simple space a little bit of personality. Specifically the small, color-changing lamp that sat on the counter against the wall. The large crystal mounted to a bronze base reflected the rainbow colored light, flinging it onto the walls. Tord could stare for hours, mesmerized by the shifting hues. But a medic walked in, and his gaze shifted to the door. She was mumbling to herself, not noticing that he was awake. She checked the levels on his IV and the readings on his heart monitor, completely oblivious to the fact that her patient was watching her.

 

“Give it to me straight Doc, how long do I have?” he joked, laughing when she squeaked in surprise.

“O-Oh my god, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were awake,” she stammered, face flushing a beautiful pink.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he reassured her, “I shouldn’t’ve scared you.”

She nodded, still a little embarrassed.

“Well, now that we’ve all scared each other a little bit, I guess I should introduce myself and explain what’s going on,” she continued, “I’m Dr. Tobi Shire, one of the many doctors on the Green Army’s medical team. Green Leader brought me to you saying you had fainted and hadn’t returned to consciousness.”

“Oh,” Tord said simply, fiddling with his medical gown.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, everything’s normal,” Tobi stammered, “Fainting is a totally normal symptom of pregnancy-”

“Wait, you know?!” he exclaimed, trying to get up, “How many people know about this?!”

“Red, please calm down, everything’s okay-”

“How. Many. People. Know,” he growled, grabbing her by the front of her scrubs.

Tobi squeaked in fear, trembling from head to toe. Her mouth opened and closed, and she fidgeted in his grasp.

“N-No one else, I swear,” she whimpered, “I didn’t tell anyone yet.”

“What do you mean ‘yet’?”

“Green Leader wanted me to give him your medical reports, but I refused. Doctor-patient confidentiality still applies in war time.”

 

He released her, stunned at her bravery. She risked everything: her job, her status, her life. Not many people say no to Green Leader and live to tell the tale.

“You’ve got balls,” he chuckled, “In all my years of knowing Edd, he never took ‘no’ for an answer.”

She flushed pink, playing with a lock of her dyed white hair.

“I-Is there anything else you need?” she asked, “Food? Water? A pot to take a leak in?”

“No, not really,” Tord admitted, “I just wanna sleep.”

“Just rest, your body’s going through a lot, and all this stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

She adjusted the sheets (though not without a seemingly permanent flush on her face), checking the machines one last time before grabbing her coat and turning off the lights.

“Oh, one more thing,” she said, stopping short, “Do you want me to turn the lamp off?”

“Nope.”

The door shut behind her, leaving him in mostly darkness. The ever-changing colors on the wall lulled him to sleep, the beeping of the heart monitor becoming background noise before fading away completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2622 words
> 
> \---
> 
> and no, the two of them are not dating. though that is a gag i will milk dry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
>  
> 
> if you want your eddsworld ocs to be featured in this unholy abomination of a fanfiction (especially next chapter) link to a reference sheet or describe them in the comments below

**Author's Note:**

> (2798 words)
> 
> Oh this is only the beginning munchkins, Tord's going to suffer a lot more before this fic is over. ;3c
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, feel free to leave predictions down below. Who knows, this is still slightly WIP, so I may implement your theories into the story one way or another.
> 
> Thanks for reading munchkins! SisterSauce out!


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